“I am quite sure that Harry and his friends will be perfectly fine,” Dumbledore told him, as he worked on disarming the charm and obtained the correct winged-key to move through the door.

They had gone on ahead without the other staff members, at Severus’ request.

The potions master rose an eyebrow. “You were ‘quite sure’ that Quirrell was perfectly harmless, too, if I recall correctly.”

 “Yes… well… sometimes even I make mistakes, Severus. Surely you can forgive an old man?” the headmaster sighed.

 “That remains to be seen.”

 “Does it?” Dumbledore asked, quizzically. “So there’s hope for me yet.”

 “It is heavily dependent on what lies on the other side of this door,” Snape told him. “If, for instance, Harry is not in one piece, I shall be less inclined to put this behind us.”

 “I am convinced you underestimate the boy, Severus,” Dumbledore told him. “He is shaping up to be a splendid young wizard…”

 “Whilst that may be true, he is also an eleven year old boy who has suffered years of neglect at the hands of his so-called relatives,” Snape pointed out. “He is not strong enough to take on the Dark Lord. Nor shall he ever be, as long as he remains in the care of those muggles.”

The headmaster muttered an incantation under his breath and in a split second, the hundreds of keys buzzing around the room fell to the ground at once.

Reaching out, he picked up the large brass one and dusted it off, smiling to himself.

 “You seemed sure that was where he was destined to remain, when we last spoke of this.”

 “My opinion has not changed. Not if what you say about the replication of the blood wards is true,” Snape said.

 “It is. And I see that you doubt your ability to overcome it,”  Dumbledore noted. “Yet, you have still taken the time to watch over the boy for years. Why was that, I wonder?”

 “You know why.”  

 “Lily?” the headmaster suggested. “For her?”

 “And for him. For Harry,” Snape told him, stiffly.

 “I see. Perhaps if the child knew…” Dumbledore began.

 “No,” he snapped. “He will not know.”

  “Ah,” was all Dumbledore said, moving past him to put the key in the door.

Snape glared at him.

 “Headmaster?” he enquired, suspiciously.

Dumbledore turned to look at him.

 “Tell me, Severus. Do you know why the boy attached himself to you in the way he did?” he asked.

 “I… do not…” Snape admitted.

 “Sometimes, as we sleep, the things that are happening in real-time around us seep through into our subconscious.  Often, we might mistake these happenings for dreams when we awake,” Dumbledore told him. “I believe this is what happened in Harry’s case. Thus he felt a sense of familiarity when he first saw you, in the Great Hall.”

 “Please tell me,” Snape began. “That you have not enlightened the boy?”

 “Did I tell him the truth, you mean? No,” Dumbledore assured him, putting the key into the door and opening it easily. “However, I may have provided him with something to help him reach the conclusion himself. I have no doubt he has already worked it out, especially with Miss Granger by his side. She really is the brightest witch of her age…”

With that, he slipped through the door into the next room, leaving Severus furious.

He followed, ready to give the headmaster a piece of his mind, but was promptly stopped in his tracks as two small bodies crashed into them.

 “Children!” Dumbledore exclaimed, and Snape saw looked down at the two heads of hair – one bushy and the other red in colour.

 “Where is Potter?” he snapped, panicked to see that the trio was reduced to a duo.

The two Gryffindors both began to talk hurriedly, pointing frantically behind them, so frenzied that neither men could understand a word they had said.  

 “Desist at once!” Snape hissed. “You will talk slowly. And coherently!”

 “Wizard’s Chess?” Dumbledore asked casually, looking at the room in front of them, as if he had never laid eyes on it before. “Did you win?”

 “I hardly think that is relevant–” the potions master began.

But Ron was nodding now. “Yeah, we played a blinder! But then…”

 “Harry went through there,” Hermione told them, pointing to the door at the far end of the room. “We think Professor Quirrell is through there. He’s trying to steal the Stone.”

Just then, the other staff members appeared through the smaller door behind them, coming to a halt to survey the scene before them.

 “Good Lord!” McGonagall breathed.

 “Thank you for joining us,” Dumbledore said kindly, turning to look at them. “Sybill, perhaps you would be so kind as to take Miss Granger and Miss Weasley back into the castle? Take them both to the hospital wing, Poppy will return to see to them shortly.”

 “Of course, of course…” Professor Trelawney nodded, reaching out to put her hands on Ron and Hermione’s shoulders, pausing only momentarily to lock eyes with Severus Snape.

 “Are you deaf, woman?” he snapped – his patience for her even less than usual.

Muttering frantically beneath her breath, the Divination teacher guided the two children from the room.

 “Mental this one,” Ron whispered to Hermione as they allowed the woman to take them along. “Did she just say something about Snape becoming a father?”

Hermione shrugged, glancing back at the other teachers anxiously before the door closed behind them.

With the two young Gryffindors removed from the room, Dumbledore turned back to the other staff members.

 “Stay behind me,” he said, and with that he began to move across the rubble of the chessboard, towards the large door, coming to a halt in front of it and brandishing his wand. “BOMBARDA!”

The door was thrown from its hinges, and Dumbledore shielded his eyes with the sleeve of his robe as the brightness of the flames within hit them.

A moment of relative silence followed, before Pomona Sprout ventured cautiously into the room, wand at the ready.

 “Merlin’s beard!” she gasped, seeing the heap of robes on the floor.

 “Professor Dumbledore!” Flitwick called  from the other side of the steps.

He was standing beside another heap of clothes. Or at least, that was how it first seemed.

But as their eyes adjusted, there was a collective gasp from the female teachers, as they realised that the tiny Charms professor was in fact standing over what appeared to be the lifeless body of a child.

They gathered around him.

 “Oh, Harry…” Minerva murmured, sounding as if her voice might crack.

Severus Snape pushed through the small group, fighting his way in to kneel beside the small boy.

He reached out a hand, brushing back the child’s hair from his forehead, willing him to open his eyes.

But Harry was still.

Too still.

OOOOOOO